A Matter Of Anger And Control Issues
by Dandelion Dreamer
Summary: Genevieve isn't the most pleasant person. But, then again, neither is Paul. What happens when the two most seemingly difficult people are meant to be together? [Otherwise known as my take on imprinting.]
1. Chapter 1

Genevieve was restless in her seat on the airplane. She had always hated flying, more than a normal person should. Something about having so many elements out of her control really bugged her. She figured that if she ever needed to fly somewhere after she could drive herself, she would just have to get a pilot's license. But, that wasn't the case. She was too young to drive, so on the plane she sat. Going to Washington, of all places. When she told her friends, they all asked if she would be living near the White House.

Because nobody really cares about Washington state.

So was the mindset of Genevieve. As she watched the clouds get denser, she knew that she was almost there. The California sunlight was a thing of the past. She looked to her side. Asleep on her chair, her aunt was snoring softly. She sighed and returned her gaze to the window.

The pilot announced they would be landing soon and Genevieve shook her aunt, and new legal guardian, awake. Her aunt had insisted that she call her by her first name, Caroline. Her parents had died in a car accident two years ago, and her aunt had lived with her in California for that time. Eventually, she managed to convince Genevieve to move to Washington.

She clutched the armrests tightly as the plane bounced up and down on the way to the runway. They skidded to a stop, much to Genevieve's dismay, but stopped nonetheless. The pair was sitting close to the front so they quickly gathered their purses from below and bustled off the plane. Caroline started babbling about all her friends, the school, and everything else that she considered "interesting" in Washington.

Genevieve wasn't listening.

She had heard it all before. How the beaches there were lovely, with cliffs and bonfires. How the school was nice and small, so there would be no worrying about "mean girls" or cliques. How her house was nestled into the woods. How there were "friendly" wolves in the woods that howl on occasion.

And so on, and so on.

Honestly, she could not see how wolves could possibly be "friendly" in any universe, let alone Washington. And the beaches? Weren't they FREEZING? Plus the thing about the sun (or lack thereof) would really take a toll on Genevieve's attitude. For every "good" thing about Washington, she could think of an equally bad reason that would cancel out the good. But one point Genevieve could not argue: there was a better chance of getting a boyfriend.

In California, she had grown up with all the same kids and had gone to school with them. Everyone knew everyone, and dating rarely occurred. Plus, Genevieve was a bit of a control freak. She needed things to be orderly, and she needed to know that she had influence. Weekly, she did community service and they gave her power. Which she, in turn, abused. But nobody could deny that it ran much more smoothly after she was given power. Things were orderly, and they helped more people because of it.

People do not like being told what to do, Genevieve had learned. But, that did stop her? Of course not. She was Genevieve McGreggor, the control freak. If simple human faults were going to stop her, why bother in the first place? She was determined, almost to a scary place. She was also old enough to know that Caroline could hardly tell her what to do. If all else failed, she could always play the "You're Aren't My Real Mom" card.

The two bypassed the baggage check because they had shipped their belongings earlier. For the first time, Genevieve stepped out into Washington.

It was raining, already a bad sign. She scowled and followed Caroline to the taxi waiting area. It didn't take long for them to get a taxi. Not that many people were flying into Washington. Genevieve couldn't really blame them. It was a miserable place, but it was now her "home." But she would always know that her home was in the California sunshine.

"I think you'll really like the reservation, I'm so glad that I moved there," Caroline babbled. Oh yes, she had heard it all before. When Caroline's online business boomed a few years ago, she made enough money to quit her day job and move into a nice house near a reservation called La Push. The only thing that Genevieve registered about it was that La Push was really bad Spanish. And she should know, she passed Spanish 3 Honors with an A.

"I'm sure I'll love it," she assured her aunt. That seemed to appease her as she continued talking about it.

"And there are a bunch of nice boys around there as well, Sam Uley's gang," Caroline continued.

Genevieve gasped. "A _gang_? You're dragging me to a miserable, rainy city with a _gang_? _ARE YOU INSANE?!_" she exploded.

She simply flipped her wrist with nonchalance. "They're not a gang. They're respectful young boys who are never apart. It's just a common saying in the town. Sam Uley is an upstanding citizen, and so are his friends. Oh, his fiancé is very nice as well; you'll have to meet her." And she picked it up again.

The ride to the house was obscenely long. It drove Genevieve to near insanity. Caroline didn't stop for a minute. It was like she kept forgetting details about her home. Couldn't she just wait until they actually got there? No, she really couldn't. Caroline was not comfortable unless she was talking. Genevieve knew that would get annoying.

But they eventually made it to the house. It truly was a lovely house, Genevieve would say that. Caroline pointed to a window in the middle of the second story. "That's your room," she told her, smiling. The two made their way into the house and it looked just perfect inside. It exuded a homey feeling.

Once she had received the grand tour, Genevieve went to take a walk. Caroline offered to join her, but she refused the company. Mostly because she couldn't take another minute of her mindless chatter. She ventured off to the left of the house, towards the reservation. For some reason, her mind just told her to go there. It was like it was drawing her in.

Once there, she realized that it was rather charming. It would grow on her with time, she told herself. She wandered aimlessly for a while. Somehow she knew that in the future, she would be spending quite a lot of time here. It was a beautiful town, and all the people seemed friendly enough. A few stopped to talk to her, genuinely interested in the new girl in town.

She felt at home almost instantly. She even almost forgot about her home in California. As life-altering as that was, it was nothing compared to what came around the corner in that next second.

The world seemed to stop. It was a group of ten, nine boys and a girl. But none of them mattered more than the one boy that caught her eye. She felt a connection to him, as if fate had guided her entire life up until this moment where they first saw each other. Genevieve stared at him and he stared back. Then, she was brought back to her senses. She shook her head and side-stepped around the group. The nine of them continued on, but the boy never stopped staring at her. Genevieve felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze and looked down.

"Paul!" came the sharp cry of one of his friends. The boy broke the gaze and looked back at his friends. He strayed one last glance at Genevieve and ran back up to them.

At best, that was awkward. Her eyes followed him as he walked. He looked back every few seconds. She was rooted to the spot. Who was he? Well, his name was Paul, that much she knew. Her interest was instantly piqued. Why did she feel compelled to stare at him? More importantly, why did he stare back? Who were his friends? Why was there only one girl? WHY DID HE STARE AT HER? She just wanted to track him down and force him to tell her why he was staring at her. Maybe that would help her figure out why she couldn't stop staring at him.

The whole situation was NOT under Genevieve's control. And that bugged her. She had to find him again and figure this out before this uncontrollable situation consumed her.

**I know, I know. I should be working on 6:23, eh? This idea just popped into my head, though. (But if you haven't read 6:23, I totally think you should because it rocks. Chyeah.) I love this story already, because Genevieve is kind of a mean character. I've been getting rather sick of characters that people like. I want ****people to hate a character for some reason. So, yeah. She's a control freak that doesn't like things that aren't under her control. (Unsurprisingly.) Next chapter: Genevieve and Paul actually meet. Caroline coins a nickname for Genevieve. Genevieve decides that she hates Paul. (But why? Hmmm... You'll just have to wait!) Uh yeah. Otherwise, I figure I should mention that Genevieve (for people who don't know) sounds more like Jenna-vieve. But isn't spelled like that. Yeah. So, keep that in mind. This is an obscenely long note. I should stop.**

**Leave a review, please! PLEASE? PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE? kthxbi.**** XD**


	2. Chapter 2

Genevieve's current situation irked her to no end. Given, it had only been about an hour, but that was enough for her feelings to eat at her. She couldn't describe them. She had gotten crushes before; this was not like those. It was all she could do to keep herself from going out to find him. She blamed it simply on the fact that she thought she would get lost if she went any further.

Because somebody could REALLY get lost there.

There was a window seat in her room, and she foresaw many hours spent sitting on it. It was rather comfortable. Mindlessly, she was staring out of the window and down to the road. A sudden burst of paranoia rippled through her.

Genevieve had issues with paranoia. Most of the time, it was just because she thought somebody was watching her. But, sometimes, somebody was actually watching her. One time she was convinced there was a haunted room in her house, and she refused to in there. Coincidentally, it happened to be her bathroom. So, she was forced to use the guest bathroom or her parents' bathroom.

But this time she felt it. She KNEW somebody was watching her. Was it Paul? Her eyes focused and scanned the outside. There was a slight disturbance in the woods and she jumped up in flash. She was running out the door before she could throw an excuse towards Caroline's way. Her bare feet pounded the grass hard as she raced towards the spot in the forest. She ran into the forest, yelling 'Ouch!' and a few choice words due to the sticks and rocks on the ground every few steps. She turned sharply and ran into somebody. She bounced backwards and stumbled, falling over.

She landed with an "Oomph!", shocked that she actually fell over. It was like she ran into a wall. But, no, she looked up and into the eyes of the mysterious Paul. Without skipping a beat, he rushed over to her and helped her up. "Thanks," she muttered, ripping her arm from his grip. "I don't need your help."

"Sorry," he replied, gruffly. He had a deep voice, she noted. He was exceptionally tall, and very strongly built, like an athlete. Genevieve was never into the whole jock thing. They stared at each other for a moment. It was an intense stare, full of emotions. Confusion was evident, of course. But there was something almost... loving in the way he looked at her. Genevieve stared him straight in the eye.

It is common knowledge that when you are defending yourself against a wild animal, you do not break eye contact. The animal is intimidated and will eventually back down. Given, Paul was not a wild animal and Genevieve was not in a dire situation. But, that was how she lived her life. Stare straight into their eyes and hope they run away.

Paul did not do that. If anything, he intensified the staring. Eventually, she got sick of the staring and stuck out her hand. "I'm Genevieve."

He carefully took her hand and shook it. "Paul." She broke eye contact and looked down at their hands, still shaking. Paul pulled back immediately, but she snatched his hand again.

"You're burning!" she exclaimed. She looked up and into his eyes. "Are you sick? Are you hurt? Did you trip and fall in the forest? Are you okay?" she asked in rapid-fire succession.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to pull his hand back gently. She dug her nails into his skin.

"You're burning, let me take your temperature," she insisted, beginning to pull him to the house. "I took first aid in Girl Scouts for three years, I know what I'm doing," she assured him.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine!" Paul tried, but Genevieve was no longer listening.

In her mind she ticked off a list of all the things that could cause the abnormally high temperature. "Have you been recently sunburned? Do you have allergies? Are you suffering from hyperthermia?"

"I don't even know what that is!" he exclaimed, pulling his hand with so much force that he yanked Genevieve forward with too much force. She let go of his hand and fell forward, hitting her head on a tree on her way down. She crumpled onto the ground, clearly unconscious. Paul muttered some obscenities before lifting her up gently and racing through the forest.

---

Her vision was blurry, at best, when she finally opened her eyes. A noticeable headache pulsed in her head; she figured she had a migraine. She had never had one before, but she imagined that this must be what they felt like. Her mind was so busy with what a migraine felt like that her vision cleared without her knowing.

But when she noticed, she freaked out. Letting out an ear-splitting, high-pitched scream, she hit Paul, who was looking over her, in the face. She sprang to her feet a little too fast and her headache deepened. She fell backwards on the couch once more.

She was vaguely aware of voices. There was an unidentified male voice telling somebody she couldn't see to hold someone back. Then, most predominantly, she heard Paul's voice yelling, "SHE HIT ME!" He continued yelling, only yelling obscenities, and Genevieve couldn't help but think that he was rather rude to swear.

When her vision returned to her, two women were leaning over her. With impeccable speed, one of them held her arms down. "Hi, Genevieve?" the other asked. "I'm Emily, and this is Leah. You were knocked unconscious. Paul brought you here. Aside from a headache, you're perfectly fine."

"Why am I not in a fucking hospital?" was all she replied.

The two women looked at each other. Leah turned her head back and stated simply, "We don't go to the hospital."

"But... Paul's got a fever, he needs to see a doctor!" She insisted, beginning to sit up but Leah pushed her down again. "I'm serious," she tried to sit up once more, only to be pushed down again. "Stop it! I'm taking him to the hospital!" Genevieve shoved herself upwards, but Leah was too quick. She held Genevieve down on the couch.

"Nothing's wrong with Paul," Leah growled. She lifted one of her hands and grasped Genevieve's arm. She gasped at the warmth of her hand as well. "It's a..." Leah tried, but looked behind her a moment later. A man came behind her and looked down.

"A pre-existing condition among our people," the boy finished for her. "I'm Sam," he introduced himself.

She writhed under Leah's strong grasp. "Hi Sam. Can you tell your minions to GET OFF OF ME?" Leah scowled at her but let go. Guinevere popped off the couch and straightened out her shirt. "Nice to meet you," she managed, mumbling her thanks on the way out.

---

Genevieve realized about two seconds after she left the house that she had no shoes and a lot splinters on her feet. And then she realized that Caroline would be going crazy right now. And, after all that, she realized she would have to explain why she wasn't wearing shoes, why she had splinters, and why she just left.

So, she went a different direction.

She hoped to find a shoe store somewhere, she did have her wallet on her, but there was no such luck. She rounded a corner a bit too quickly and hit something hard once again. And, once again, it happened to be Paul. Her balance was knocked and she swayed backwards, but Paul was too quick. He grabbed her and steadied her. "I wanted to make sure you got home okay," he explained.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. "I'm not in any hurry to be going home." Paul's eyes lit up.

"Would you like a tour of the town?" he asked excitedly.

She looked at him oddly. "Uh, I'm not wearing shoes."

"Oh, take mine," he proposed, slipping his shoes off quickly.

"No."

"Just take them. I don't mind."

"But they're big."

"Better than nothing."

"But they're your shoes! I refuse."

"Just take the shoes."

"Why?"

"Because I'm _trying_ to be polite."

"And failing."

"WOULD YOU JUST TAKE THE SHOES?" he screamed at her.

Genevieve rolled her eyes and slipped her feet into the shoes. "No need to be so pushy."

Paul glowered in anger as she began to walk ahead of him. She turned around and, annoyed, asked, "Well, are you going to show me or not? And your shoes smell _terrible_, just so you know. Have you ever washed your feet?" He let out a low growl but walked beside her anyway. He pointed out the few interesting things that were in the town to her, and she would make snide remarks.

But they soon had almost circled the town, because it really wasn't that big. "Oh, I meant to ask you," Genevieve started, "why were you staring at me through my window?"

He simply shrugged and stated, "One reason or another."

"Tell me."

"Why?"

"_Tell me._"

"What if I say no?"

"Tell me! Tell me!"

"No!"

"Tell me!"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I do. TELL ME!"

"I want a better answer."

"I don't care! Tell me!"

"No."

"You are so infuriating!"

"I AM?!?! LOOK WHO'S TALKING!"

"I'M INFURIATING? IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO SAY?"

"YES, I AM!"

"ARTICULATE YOUR WORDS BETTER!"

"What?"

"GOOD GOD, YOU ARE A COMPLETE IDIOT!" She let out an angry squeak and stalked off towards Caroline's house. Paul fumed there for a moment. She had been walking for a good minute before Paul yelled after her.

"YOU STILL HAVE MY SHOES!" She turned around and glared at him. Pulling off the shoes, she chucked them at his head. He caught them with ease. As she started to walk, she began to limp, her feet hurting too much. Paul debated for a moment. But, eventually, he ran up behind her and scooped her into his arms.

"Put me down! I don't want your goddamn help!" she argued, squirming in his grasp. He only held her tighter.

"I don't want to watch you be in pain."

She stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Sympathy pains." She looked at him, thought about arguing once more, but decided against it. She relaxed in his arms.

"Isn't this hurting you? I'm not exactly the lightest person."

Paul shrugged. "I don't mind." The house loomed into their sight. Gently, he put her down on the grass. "You'll be okay from here?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah." She looked to the house and back at him. "Thanks," she said. "For the tour and the shoes and... carrying me."

"No problem."

Genevieve was about to say something else when Caroline burst out of the house. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" she yelled. "I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK! YOU DIDN'T EVEN SAY A WORD ON YOUR WAY OUT! ARE YOU INSANE? YOU'VE BEEN HERE ONLY A FEW HOURS AND YOU MANAGE TO MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A FAILURE!" Caroline caught her breath and looked over to Paul. "Oh, hello Paul. I'm glad to see my Genevieve wasn't completely on her own."

Paul shrugged and looked at Genevieve once more. "I'll see you around?" he stated, almost as a question.

"Sure, I'll see you later." A shadow of a smile appeared on his face and he walked off. Genevieve turned to face Caroline.

"He's a nice boy," she smiled down at her. "You should have him over for dinner sometime, Genny."

"Genny?" she asked.

"Genevieve is a mouthful. Genny is a cute name." Caroline smiled and walked calmly back into the house. Genevieve watched her aunt in shock. Was she bi-polar or A.D.D?

Or both?

**Ahhhhhhh. I'm taking forever with writing my stories. Well, this is post-sleepover writing, which means my inspiration for this story has been replenished. My friend and I spent two hours talking about this story and yeah... I've got some ideas. So, yeah, hope you all liked it. And if you did like it, I THINK YOU SHOULD LEAVE A REVIEW!**

**-points to elephant-sized hint above- Anyone, anyone?**


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